Attention as a Form of Love
I’ve been thinking about how attention might be the purest expression of love. Not the romantic kind, just the basic human one.
In a world built to fragment our focus, the act of truly paying attention feels monumental. To give your full presence to someone or something, to a conversation, a piece of art, a moment, is to say, this matters.
The older I get, the more I see how little most people feel seen. Noticed, sure. Measured, maybe. But really seen? Rarely. And that absence shows up everywhere; from creative burnout to broken relationships to the way we talk past each other online.
Attention doesn’t cost money, but it costs effort. It asks you to slow down, to resist the pull of everything else competing for your time. It asks you to stop multitasking long enough to experience something honestly.
I’m learning that when I give my attention (fully, deliberately) it transforms the interaction. Whether it’s my daughter showing me a drawing, a friend sharing a new idea, or even me sitting with a project that’s been fighting me for weeks, the moment I decide to be there, something shifts.
Maybe that’s the closest thing to love most of us can offer day to day. To look, to listen, and to let something know it matters.